


Badlands

by Verlassenes00



Series: Badlands [1]
Category: Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: F/M, Gen, Kenyako
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 10:30:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6562774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verlassenes00/pseuds/Verlassenes00
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up comes with growing pains, but in the end it works itself out...right? As the 02kids are getting older, things are changing for each of them respectively. While there's plenty of good that can come, not all change IS good. And the path to Ken and Miyako being together isn't exactly and easy one. Please enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Super Power

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Digimon or anything to do with it. You know the drill.  
> Special thanks to xdaisydipx for the time and ideas we've shared that helped generate this story.

Chapter 1: The Super Power

On a particularly warm spring day, unseasonably hot in fact, there wasn’t a single cloud disrupting the crystal blue of the sky that faded into a pale and nearly white shade that kissed the horizon. White streaks from airliners blurred in the steady wind above which caused the lines to feather and fade quickly while only a gently breeze was felt along the ground. The water of the river rippled and shimmered in the midday light. Metal reflected the sun like mirrors and wavy lines of exhaust and heat danced through the air, rising from the streets and cars alike. Cicada came to life earlier than usual, chirping and rattling their songs in the heat of the day. Daisuke lifted a hand to block the sunlight as he leaned back on the grass. The long blades poked up around his and waved as another breeze swept through. Ken leaned forward against his knees and kept a steady watch on Hikari and Miyako as they danced around to the festival music at the bottom of the hill. Iori and Takeru sat at the picnic table a few feet from Daisuke, quickly gnawing on the chewy treats of a vendor and between bites talking about this and that but nothing in particular.  


It wasn’t often that a day so early in spring brought such tremendous heat. Daisuke breathed in the warm sweet air mixed with the delectable aromas that wafted up from the vendor tents. Streamers and ribbons and decorations of all sorts hung along wires and strings and lines tied between poles and trees. Balloons floated into the sky as children cried out in disappointment at having released it. The music droned on, Daisuke was hardly paying any attention to it. Takeru’s brother and his band wasn’t going to be performing until later that night and so Daisuke didn’t feel a particular obligation to invest himself in any other band. Takeru was probably more grateful than his brother for the support. He was courteous in that way, ever grateful for even the smallest someone could give. Iori was mostly indifferent to it all but showed his best enthusiasm and support if the situation called for it. Daisuke clenched his jaw and then hurled himself back up, kicking his legs out and hunching over. He stared down the hill with a sour expression.  


“Girls are so complicated.” He grunted.  


While it wasn’t unusual for Daisuke to simply speak whatever happened to be on his mind, Ken was caught off guard by the sudden commentary that seemed to have come without context. He tilted his head and stared at his friend waiting for elaboration but when none came, he decided to prompt Daisuke to continue. Ken turned his gaze back to the girls as they twirled and swayed, somewhat sloppily but mostly in time, to the music, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about but I have feeling you have your reasons for thinking that.”  


Daisuke scoffed, “I just don’t get why Hikari isn’t interested in me. I’ve tried everything and she still looks at me like I’m crazy. It’s so hard to tell what she’s thinking.”  


“It’s hard to know what anyone is thinking.” Ken said passively in response.  


Daisuke frowned and turned to his friend whose attention was lost to the scene below. For a moment he considered not saying anything at all, letting the moment pass, but then he decided that it would be better to get it out before it made him feverishly sick from frustration, “It’s not that hard,” he gestured down the hill to where the girls continued merrily prancing, “You’re thinking about Miyako and if she would ever be as excited about you as she is about dancing around to this mediocre music.”  


As the words slowly sunk in and brought his attention back to the conversation, Ken’s jaw tightened and he tried his best to keep a cool calm façade, “What makes you think that, Daisuke?”  


The young man grinned. He clearly won back Ken’s attention as he had intended, “Well, for starts: you have a crush on Miyako. That’s sort of a giveaway.”  


“That’s not true.” Ken deflected.  


Daisuke stared out at the festival for a moment. Perhaps he had been mistaken, but he was sure of what he’d seen over the last few years. He slowly turned to face his friend, leaning back on his arms and looking him over suspiciously. His gaze was ever locked on the girl in question. Daisuke snorted and then smiled, “You’re right,” Ken looked over to see the lopsided grin on his friend’s face, a chill of anxiety raced through his skin and made his heart skip. Daisuke continued, “It’s more of a hold your breath for a moment when she’s next to you; mind numbing, heart racing, everything just fades away for a split second when she brushes against you or looks your way for no reason; think about her when you fall asleep, stare at her every chance you get but look away as soon as she turns your direction because it’s terrifying to think she might notice that you don’t have a crush on her at all, because to say you have a crush on Miyako would be a gross disservice to how you actually feel. Am I right?”  
Ken’s widened eyes and frozen posture was enough to confirm that he’d been correct in his assessment. Daisuke lifted his eyebrows, insisting a response. Ken looked down at the ground, at the long blades of soft spring grass. His breathing was fast and shallow and he tried to slow it but it didn’t want to slow, “That’s…” he managed to breathe out, “That’s a lot of…”  


“Observations?” Daisuke guessed.  


“Observations?” Ken repeated.  


“Yeah,” Daisuke replied nonchalantly, “most people don’t actually think about those things. Actions speak louder than words, you know. You might say you’re ready for something but you’re shaking so hard the floor vibrates. It’s easy to lie but it’s hard to back it up in action. That’s how you can really tell what a person’s about. It’s the little subtle things that give people away.”  


“You’re surprisingly attune to human behavior.” Ken said as his thoughts began to drift off, musing about the endless possibilities of such an ability.  


“Most people are easy to read.” Daisuke said, softer than before, “Hikari’s basically impossible. She puts so much effort into making sure no one knows how she actually feels that I’m not sure she even knows how she feels.”  


“Maybe she’s not ready to confront certain things just yet.” Ken eyed his friend as he shifted uncomfortably, more so from the conversation than physical discomfort.  
Daisuke’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched the down the hill. Small children had joined in the festivities and the music and switched to a lighter hearted and playful set. Miyako and Hikari were no longer gleefully dancing. Instead they were standing close together, gesturing here and there, and talking about something and then glancing back to where their male friends were camped farther up the hill. Daisuke hung his head, “I think she’s just avoiding dealing with how she feels because it affects more than just her. I know she’s not interested in me and I can live with that but at the same time I want to be really angry about it. I want to hate her for it. Not because she doesn’t feel the way I do about her, but because she won’t own up to the fact that she doesn’t feel that way about me. It’s like she’s scared to own up to it because she thinks I’ll blame it on her having feelings for Takeru but I won’t because that’s not what I think. To be honest, I’m not really convinced she has feelings for him either. It seems mostly platonic.”  


“Does it?” Ken glanced around Daisuke at their friend as he laughed along with Iori and took another bite from one of the many treats he’d collected, “It seems to me they get surprisingly jealous of each other for being platonic.”  


“I think it’s more of a protective jealousy. They’re just looking out for each other and they’ve been friends for a really long time so the idea of not being involved with each other’s lives probably feels really strange. Sort of like us.” Daisuke smiled brightly.  


“While a day or two without you constantly sending me messages or tracking me down either out of entertainment or necessity might be a bit unexpected, I have a feeling their experience is very different. It might not be romantic yet but I wouldn’t say they’re entirely platonic.” Ken said in a quieter voice, conscious of the fact that they were speaking of their friends.  


“Or maybe they’re just not as comfortable with each other as we are.” Daisuke tipped over sideways, resting his head on Ken’s shoulder and clasping his hands together in his lap. He batted his eyelashes and gave a breathy sigh.  


“Daisuke, stop it.” Ken shoved him away with hand and leaned the opposite direction, both annoyed and disturbed by such an implication. He turned away from his friend and clenched his jaw tight. If there was but one thing that drove him mad, it was the implication that he was in some way interested in the same sex. Sure it probably would have made sense with his narrow figure, smooth jawline, and shoulder length hair but those were all just physical features. Ken, though he wasn’t one to outright admit it, was just as girl-crazy as the worst. The problem was that far too many people made assumptions based on how he looked and that led Ken to being more self-conscious about his appearance than he otherwise should have been. A number of times he considered cutting his hair short but he liked it long and couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d tried hard to gain some density, muscle mass or otherwise but to his great misfortune it seemed that no matter how hard he worked at it, he remained sleek and narrow.  


Daisuke wobbled upright again and then resumed leaning back on his arms as the girls began to make their trek up the hill. He knew Ken didn’t like being teased in that way but he couldn’t help himself and Ken tolerated a surprising amount of borderline harassment from Daisuke than he otherwise would have from anyone else. They had a special bond and, though Daisuke didn’t put too much thought into it, he was sure under different circumstance that they might have been more than just close friends. While Ken would squeamishly avoid talking about such a thing, Daisuke felt comfortable with it. He wasn’t the sort to develop feelings for someone based on sex alone. He cared about people. Plenty of times he told his friends, male and female, that he loved them and while they took it as just his usual affection demeanor, he truly meant it. He had a big heart and cared about people as people and didn’t often see them as their assigned sexes. Once he’d tried to talk to his sister about it but she was too preoccupied with her magazines and latest crushes to accommodate much in the way of conversation. No matter, Daisuke was content with the idea of loving and caring about whoever he wanted…so long as they were comfortable with it too. If he had learned anything from the years of pining for Hikari, it was that thrusting unwanted affection at someone was the wrong way to do it.  


“Hey guys,” Miyako said happily as the girls slowed to a stop, “we were thinking about going and playing some of the games that are set up. Anyone want to come?”  


“Sure,” Takeru responded first, “I’ve gotten really good at those ring toss games. Remember how I won that giant panda last year?”  


“And then you lost it when you left it on the Ferris wheel.” Hikari giggled. Takeru feigned a sulk, mourning the loss of the oversized prize.  


“I read on a flyer that there are water balloon tosses on the south end.” Iori offered.  


“That sounds fun.” Miyako said as she gracelessly wiped her arm along her forehead, smearing away beads of sweat from having overindulged in the music.  


“It would be a nice relief from the heat.” Takeru added.  


“My thoughts exactly.” Hikari agreed with a nod.  


“Then I guess it’s settled,” Daisuke stood up, dusting off the seat of his shorts, “we’ll go try the water balloon toss and hope we don’t get completely soaked.”  


“I wouldn’t mind if I did, though.” Miyako said, fanning herself with one hand.  


Daisuke smirked, looking the girl up and down and noting the thin light colored clothes clinging to her slender figure. Her mostly white sundress faded down into yellow with pastel pink flower petals dotting the lower skirt. It seemed her sense of fashion had improved the longer she and Hikari had been friends but it was hard to say if that was the reason for her attractive attire or if it was just the result of time being generous to her and making most things, no matter how odd or eccentric, look flattering. Unlike when they were young children, Miyako had taken on a highly feminine shape. Just by nature, she was graced with a slim waist and smooth hourglass curves. Hikari, on the other hand, had a cute face but took after her mother in a pear shape. Daisuke chortled, “I don’t think Ken would mind if you did either.”  


Ken choked. His eyes were as wide and round as saucers in disbelief. With such inelegance, Daisuke had thrown out such an obvious cue about Ken’s feelings for Miyako. The girl groaned, irritated by the comment and quickly snapped back, “Do you always have to be so cruel? It’s not my fault it’s so hot out. And to be perfectly honest, it’s not like I smell bad. It’s a little bit of sweat, Daisuke.”  


He stared at her blankly. Clearly she’d not listened all that well to what he said or had simply taken it in a completely different direction. He rolled his eyes and then looked down to Ken who somewhere between mortified and angry. It didn’t take a genius to see the mix of emotions playing on his face. Daisuke huffed and rolled his head from one side to the other and gave a long stretch with his arms up over his head, “Let’s just go and do this.”  


“We’ll have to pick teams.” Iori said as he and Takeru cleaned up the remains of their food.  


“I’m on Hikari’s team!” Miyako proclaimed and hooked arms with the girl. They smiled to each other and then laughed at the ridiculousness of Miyako’s enthusiasm.  


“Iori and I can be a team. What do you say?” Takeru turned to the youngest of the group of friends. He nodded with a smile and continued to try to fit one more paper plate into an overfilled, overstuffed garbage came.  


“That just leaves me and Ken.” Daisuke said in a matter-of-factly.  


“Of course.” Ken added dryly as he stood up beside his friend. It was natural that they would be on a team together but it wouldn’t have been his first choice at the moment. Though no one seemed to particularly notice or care about what Daisuke had blurted out, Ken still felt sore. It wasn’t that the only response was one that redirected the comment into a near insult that made him feel resentful, but it was the principle of the fact that Daisuke threw Ken’s feelings around like a wet rag. As the group of friends started down the hill and through the swarms of people and across the festival, Ken tried to push back his feelings and simply let it go. Daisuke had a habit of just saying things, not thinking about it or considering the repercussions. It was never intended to hurt anyone or in poor intent. He was good natured and he simply just said things for the sake of saying them. Ken mused that perhaps Daisuke just like to hear himself talk. Regardless, this wasn’t something to be thrown about. Surely Daisuke knew enough social etiquette to think better of blabbing about a friend’s otherwise secret affections for someone, especially when that someone is present. But then again, maybe not. He couldn’t keep his own feelings for anyone a secret even if he tried…not that he tried. The more Ken thought about it, the more frustrated he became. Daisuke was his friend and he was able to open up to him about nearly everything, and more so than to anyone else. However, Ken felt the offense in question was a serious strike against his ability to trust him.  


“You get three balloons of different sizes,” A man running the game explained, “You choose what size you want to use each round. Toss the balloon of choice to your partner and if it’s a catch, take a step back. If you and your partner cross the red line, you can sabotage another team by throwing a water balloon at one of the players or popping one of their unused balloons. If they don’t have an unused balloon you may pop the one in play. Last team remaining wins 15 gold tokens for rides, games, and concessions.” The man put his hands on his hips and peered out from under his yellow straw fedora and surveyed the crowd, “Looks like we have a lot of players today. Let’s break this down a little and have a juniors’ team for the kids.” He said personably. He corralled the assortment of young children to the side, handing them balloons and reiterating the rules, then moved the red marker sticks closer together on the ground. He glanced to the parents and gave a wink, reassuring he was being perfectly fair in the games. Likely, all the participating children would walk away with a token or two. The man then returned to the group of friends and led them to the opposite side of the set up where the red sticks were much farther apart. Bins sat in between a set of green marker sticks.  


“This is starting line, pick your partners and line up.” He said in announcer’s tone. The friends paired off as they had planned and found that the distance between each pair was fairly considerable. That would make sabotages a bit more challenging if someone chose to throw a water balloon since there was a clear and real possibility of missing. “Now, I’m sure you all remember the rules. Pick a balloon, toss it, step back, and if you cross a red line then you can sabotage. Just for a little more fun, if you catch a sabotage balloon, you may throw it back or at another team. Last teams remaining, wins the prize.” The man then walked away from the older group calling out in a loud voice, “If we’re all ready to start then pick your balloons!” As he made it to the middle space between the younger and older groups, he glanced back and forth watching as teams of players sorted through their options and selected the balloon they thought might last the longest. He smiled and held out his arms as the last group of smaller children made their selection, “On your marks,” he eyed the contenders as they prepared for the first toss, the kids more enthusiastic than the older, “Get set…TOSS!” He cried out.  


One by one, each pair began to through the balloons back and forth. One by one, they each moved farther away from each other. Iori and Takeru took their time, slowly weighing how hard to make each toss while Hikari and Miyako threw their balloon back and forth with laughter and carelessness. Daisuke was focused. He paused and thought over how he would throw the balloon, gently felt it for where it might be weak as though he would be able to detect such a thing without causing it to explode. And then he tossed it and held his breath. Ken fumbled as he tried to catch it softly but it was no use. The balloon popped and splashed water over his chest and arms, spraying the side of his face just as he turned away. Daisuke groaned and ran to the bucket, “That’s alright, we still have two more!” He picked up the medium size balloon and returned to where he had been just a moment earlier.  


“Just throw the water balloon.” Ken said, shaking the water off his shirt.  


“As long as you catch it.” Daisuke teased.  


Sure enough, he caught it and they took a step back and crossed over a red marker. Daisuke looked down at the bar on the ground with a devious smile. He then looked down the line at the other two teams. Miyako and Hikari were approaching a red marker and Iori and Takeru were still taking their time and had a few more tosses to go to catch up. A game attendant lightly tapped Daisuke’s shoulder and handed him a water balloon. He accepted it and rolled it in his palms. Just as Miyako and Hikari took another step back, heels on the red marker, Daisuke launched the first sabotage balloon, hitting Miyako squarely in the shoulder. The water splashed across her arm and sprayed along her side and head. With a shriek and a gasp, startled by the sudden impact, her fingers mistakenly dig into her own balloon and caused it to break as well. She squealed again and hopped back and the cold water ran down the front of her dress and along her forearms. Miyako shook her arms and tossed the popped balloon remains to the ground.  


“Good shot.” Ken laughed.  


“Oh, just you wait. We’ll get you guys back for that.” Miyako warned with a playful smile. She then walked up to her own bucket and picked out another balloon.  


“We’ll believe it when we see it.” Daisuke taunted. No sooner had the words come out, water abruptly hit the side of his face, soaking into his dark auburn hair and muffled his ear for a brief moment. “Hey!” He shouted and turned to see, farther down the line, that Iori and Takeru had caught up. Takeru gave a slight wave, revealing that he had been the exceptional marksman.  


With another toss, Miyako and Hikari crossed the red markers as well. They took it upon themselves to level the playing field and launched the water balloon at Iori. He turned away just in time and the water exploded against his back. Nevertheless, it invoked a good bit of laughter as he shivered and wriggled while the cold water ran down through the fabric of his clothes. The game continued on, each continuing with their own strategy and finding that the red markers were closer and closer together. Water balloons were flying at each other just as much as they were being tossed back and forth. Ken and Daisuke were down to their final balloon and both were dripping wet. Daisuke glanced over to the other players. They weren’t any better off and not that far behind. His wiped away the water that dribbled down his brow and slid over his nose. “Alright, Ken, we just have to stay focused to win. So no ogling the competition.”  


“I’m not.” His eyes narrowed. For a moment he’d forgotten about Daisuke’s earlier transgression. Ken dared not even attempt to steal a glance at the girl beside him. Surely, the way things were going, Daisuke would feel all too compelled to point it out.  


“Relax,” Daisuke said, noticing the visible tension, “we’ve basically got this. Hikari’s catching is getting sloppy and so is Miyako’s balance. Takeru’s getting wrapped up with dodging and sabotaging while Iori is getting nervous on his tosses.”  


Ken took a moment to watch the other two teams make their passes. It seemed Daisuke was right. Hikari’s throw wasn’t great but Miyako had managed to wind up in a slippery spot. Iori was hesitant as he launched the balloon in Takeru’s direction. Though it was a natural catch, Iori cringed in expectation of it popping. Ken loosened up and then looked back to Daisuke, “Good call.”  


“Yeah, and now you can stop eying the competition!” Daisuke teased and tossed the balloon. Ken tensed again. His reaction was delayed by the swell of frustration that swept him and their final, and largest, balloon cracked against him and water flew in every direction. He shook his head, droplets spraying, and then swiped his palm over his hair pushing it back. “Dude! You were supposed to catch that!” Daisuke cried out.  


“Whatever.” Ken mumbled and walked away from the game field. He walked to the edge of the grass that met with the paved path and pulled his wet shirt up over his body. At is slopped over his hear he hear giggles and the chatter of nearby girls. Ken eyes turned their direction, meeting their gazes. They bashfully turned away and pretended that he was not the object of their attention. He lifted an eyebrow, unsure what to make of such behavior and began to wring out his shirt. Water dribbled out onto the ground, splashing at it hit pavement. The giggling resumed. Again, Ken looked in the direction of the sound and saw yet another group of girls eying him up and down and then quickly turning away. Ken snorted and twisted the shirt again. Water continued to fall from it, slower and much less, but still enough for him to know it was far from dry.  


“Hey, are you alright?” Daisuke said as he caught up to his friend.  


“What?” Ken asked, confused and distracted by the attention he seemed to be attracting.  


“You just bolted.” Daisuke started to explain as he also began to notice the number of girls that giggled and chattered among themselves. His eyebrows furrowed. While he was used to Ken getting more attention simply because he had a pretty face, this seemed to be a bit much. Daisuke cocked his head to the side and got a good look at his friend. As he worked to get as much water out of his clothes as possible, it was abundantly clear that he’d been working at his physique. Daisuke sucked in a breath. He wasn’t the sort to not appreciate the allure of well-toned muscles, not so overworked as to be bulky but enough that there was no mistake about physical strength. He then glanced around at the crowd again as Ken pulled the shirt back on. Daisuke folded his arms, “I guess you were just looking for an audience.”  


“Huh?” Ken looked around. The pockets of flustered girls were thinning the moment his shirt was back on his body, “Oh. No. Actually, I don’t really know what I’m doing to make them act like that, but if I did I’d stop.”  


“Dude,” Daisuke’s eyebrows lifted rather surprised, “are you serious? They’re staring because you get them all hot and bothered.”  


“Please,” Ken said frown. He’d had his lion’s share of girls who randomly confessed their undying love for him, ones he rejected wholly on the basis of not actually knowing anything about them, but to think that he could lure in girls on a whim just seemed ridiculous.  


“I mean it.” Daisuke replied earnestly, “But you should be careful, use your powers for good. Otherwise someone will get hurt.”  


“You mean like how you should be a little more contentious about your super observational powers or you’ll end up pissing off your best friend?” Ken eyed him. It was a better time than ever to bring it up. Not far off came a crash and then a groan of defeat as another team lost; and from the sounds of it, it was the girls that had lost their final water balloon.  


“No need to be passive aggressive.” Daisuke turned his gaze to the ground and shoved his hands into his soggy shorts pockets. His toe scuffed against the ground, “Besides, it’s not that big of a deal. No one ever really believes me anyway. Just think how long it took them to believe me about you.”  


“That was a long time ago,” Ken said dismissively, “and completely different.”  


“Was it, Ken?” Daisuke looked up at his friend with a stern stare, “I saw through the cold dark façade you put up just like I see through everyone else’s and even when it turned out I was right, it still took them a while to accept it. You really think this is anything different?”  


“Yes, I do.” He retorted, “There was a lot more to it that just believing you back then, and you know it. This is completely different. It’s not seeing through anything; it’s playing around with people’s feelings. And you don’t have the right to—  


“The right to what?” Daisuke snapped, “The right to give you a little bit of chance with Miyako? Come on, she couldn’t get a hint if it was a ten-ton truck that fell on her head. Hell, you have a better shot with literally anyone else but you’re hung up on a girl who has the observational skills of a potato. It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re in love with her. And if you keep hesitating, she’s never going to know and that’s going to hurt a lot more than a moment of embarrassment for you if anyone ever did believe me.”  


Ken nodded slowly, “Yeah, well…she may not be very observant but she’s not stupid, Daisuke. I don’t have a chance with her because I already have waited too long.” He huffed and put his hands on his hips, turning away from his friend. It was the one thing about his craving affection for the girl that he didn’t want to admit but knew it was true. It had happened all at once. For years she’d looked at him in a way a child looks at the stars in the night sky. He meant everything to her and he didn’t understand. Then one day he understood and looked at her the way she had looked at him only to find she didn’t look at him that way anymore. The moment she was no longer in love with him was the first moment he was in love with her. Every day was the ache and tormenting pain of knowing his feeling were unreciprocated. He could only imagine that she had gone through the same in the time she’d longed for him with her sparkling hazel eyes. It was agonizing to think he’d put her through so much, knowing full well how she felt about him and not doing anything simply because he didn’t yet feel that way about her. He could have gently let her down, explaining that it wasn’t mutual but he didn’t. He did nothing. Ken hung his head, hiding behind his hair, and shut his eyes. Takeru and Iori were chanting their victory while Miyako and Hikari followed half a step behind, insisting that they share the winnings.  


Daisuke kept his focus on Ken. He breathed heavily and slowly. The reaction his friend had given was not one he had expected and it hurt deep into his core with a drum of sadness. As their friends approached, Daisuke breathed out, “I’m sorry.” And then turned to the group, cheerful as ever and congratulating Iori and Takeru. Ken sucked in a breath and pulled himself together enough to force a smile and join the group. Perhaps Daisuke was right in what he’d said…

 

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 2: A Recipe For Disaster...


	2. A Recipe for Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fever is a catalyst for change, a sign of a metamorphosis beginning. Or it's an indicator of the flu. Things go from good to gross, to grosser before they get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Digimon. You know the drill.  
> Super special thanks to xdaisydipx for helping inspire this chapter through fun discussion and good times.

Chapter 2: A Recipe for Disaster

“Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing.” Daisuke said as he turned the spoon through the bubbling pot of mixed foods, “Besides, I have the recipe right here.” He jutted a thumb in the direction of an old paper, yellowed with age, that sat far too close to the burner.  


“Have you ever made this before?” Ken asked warily as he tried to lean far enough to catch a glimpse at the odd smelling concoction brewing on the stovetop.  


“No. But how hard could it be?” Daisuke smiled and reached for the spices. He took only a glance at them before liberally dumping unmeasured amounts into the pot. He sniffed the rising steam and thought about the smell. It didn’t seem exactly right, at least not yet, but it wasn’t terribly far off from what he vaguely remembered having when he was very small and his grandparents had come to visit for the holidays. Daisuke picked up a canister of salt and dumped an unreasonable amount into the brew. Ken cringed and backed out of the kitchen.  


“I think I’ll just work on something else.” He walked away from what he was sure was a disaster waiting to be sampled. Then again, he’d found that Daisuke was surprisingly talented in the kitchen. Once he’d made fresh udon noodles that were so good, Ken found himself at a complete lack of positive things to say about it. In fact, for a moment, he forgot to say anything. Daisuke lived for that reaction, though. He craved the stunned silence just as much as he led his friends to crave the fantastic noodles he created on what seemed to be spontaneous whim. Rarely did he crack open a cook book or use a recipe when it came to things like that but he didn’t reject instructions all together either.  


Ken hummed quietly to himself as he cleaned up the mess of books and papers sprawled across the table and assortment of soccer gear and uniforms strewn about the living room. His mother would be devastated to see the state of the apartment if she were home. His father would likely scold him severely. Ken tossed Daisuke’s soccer supplies in the corner on top of his bag and then stacked the various culinary books and assorted recipe files beside it on the floor. He then hauled his own belongings to his room, pulled open the closet and stuffed everything in carelessly. Giving it a second thought, he reached through and picked out the non-clothing items and stacked them on his desk. Though it wasn’t perfect, it was at least acceptable.  


“I think this is about ready!” Daisuke called from the kitchen. Ken peered out from his room, suspicious as ever as he sniffed the air. It didn’t smell ready. It smelled burnt. And salty. And spicy. And there was something else but he couldn’t pin what it was but it reminded him of the time he’d tried one of the many infamous concoctions Hikari’s mother created. His stomach knotted at the memory. Koushiro, among others, had warned him to politely decline any offer she made but he optimistically believed it couldn’t possibly be as bad as it was made out. He was wrong.  
Ken walked across the apartment and stopped beside the table. Daisuke stood on the other side and a bowl sat between them with the strange greyish orange goop filling the bowl. It was thick and lumpy and the closer Ken got to it, the weirder the aroma became. A bubble rose to the surface from somewhere in the depth and popped like a thick dome of mucus and gurgled back down into the unidentifiable slop. Ken cringed, “What exactly is this supposed to be, Daisuke?”  


“It’s an old recipe. It’s a little runnier than how my nana made it but that’s just because I’ve never made it before and I never had the chance to watch her make it.” He said with a smile, “Try it.”  


“Are you sure,” Ken looked up at his friend from beneath his brow, “it’s not going to try to kill me, is it?” Tasting this was the last thing he wanted to do.  


“No way, dude. It’s great.” Daisuke said optimistically and handed Ken a spoon.  


Uneasy, he took the spoon and then lowered onto the chair. He stared down at the bowl of mystery…gunk. Being closer revealed a thin and slimy oil surface hovering just above the pasty mass that filled the majority of the dish. The black and brown specks that dotted the goo certainly were less than appetizing. Ken shut his eyes. He had to stop thinking about how weird it looked and how it smelled like a dirty gym sock filled with rotting fish heads and a moldy potato that was pickled in a jar of raw eggs and vinegar in the sun for a week. His throat tightened, he wanted to gag but he restrained himself. For Daisuke’s sake, the least he could do was taste it. Perhaps he just needed to get past the smell and it wouldn’t be that bad. After all, he once thought teriyaki fried squid smelled horrible too but it turned out to be treat. Ever so carefully, he lifted the spoon and pushed into the concoction. Slorp. Slurch. Sclup. He hesitated as the spoon pulled from the dish like it would from a vat of chunky sticky carpenter’s glue.  


The moment the queer substance touched his taste buds, he knew it had been a massive mistake. The texture was like wet sawdust but the taste was somewhere between mildew and earwax with just the slightest hint of chili powder. Trying to do the right thing, Ken swallowed. It rolled down his throat like gravel and hit his stomach like a falling lead anvil. His body hated it even more than his pallet. His muscles clenched and he buckled over. There was no way to disguise the horribleness of the creation. Ken dropped the spoon and shoved hard against the table. The chair’s legs squeaked as they dragged along the floor. He didn’t have a moment to see Daisuke’s expression to know what he might have been thinking and Ken darted away from the table.  


The door hadn’t clapped shut in time to muffle the sound of unbearable disgust and bodily rejection. Daisuke blinked in disbelief. His jaw fell slack and he looked down at the thing he’d made. Surely he hadn’t messed up the recipe so badly that he’d made his friend ill. He leaned down and sniffed the bowl. His face crinkled and his upper lip curled. Perhaps he was wrong. Grabbing the bowl, Daisuke decided it was best to dispose of the evidence while he still had the chance. Little by little, he poured it into bags and sealed them. Each dropped heavily into the garbage but at least no one would have to smell it. Daisuke cringed as another round of audible rejection echoed from the bathroom. He set the pot into the sink and filled it with hot water to soak then slowly and cautiously made his way over to the bathroom door.  


Daisuke placed a hand on the knob and gave a gentle push. Ken was leaning against the opposite, his head tipped back and his hand holding up the front of his hair. His pale complexion looked far paler than usual, tacky with sweat. His eyes seemed to droop and his body trembled. Daisuke glanced back to the kitchen. Surely this was not the work of his failed cooking experiment. He knelt down next to his friend, “Ken? Are you alright? You don’t look good.”  


“That…that was the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.” Ken said dryly in a low voice.  


“Yeah, sorry about that.” Daisuke apologized quickly as he scooted into the bathroom, taking a seat next to Ken just in time for him to lurch forward and expel and remnant of the glop that might have remained in his stomach. Daisuke cringed. As Ken settled back, he grabbed a cup of water perched on the edge of the sink. He took a small sip and shut his eyes. His body ached and sent spasms of warning through his abdomen. Daisuke looked his friend over, “You look really sick.” He reached out and put a hand on his forehead, “And you’re hot.”  


Ken rolled his head to the side giving an albeit weak but disapproving glare.  


Daisuke returned the same expression, “Focus. I think you have fever.”  


“Maybe.” Ken breathed, dropping eye contact and slumping lower against the wall.  


“You need to lay down.” Daisuke stood up and positioned himself in straddle over Ken. He reached down and grabbed his arms, pulling him limply upward to his feet and propped him against the wall. He frowned and glanced around the room, “And it’d probably be a good idea to have something to puke into.”  


Ken weakly nodded. Daisuke turned back to see his friend beginning to slide back down the wall. He quickly caught him and propped him up with his shoulder, “Let’s get you to bed before you pass out in the bathroom.”  


One step at a time, they made it slowly to the bedroom. Daisuke carefully eased Ken down onto his bed and was incredibly thankful he no longer had the loft style bunk he had when he was younger. He couldn’t imagine trying to get him up the ladder when he was barely able to stand. Ken flopped over pathetically and groaned. The only thing he could taste in his mouth was that awful recipe. No matter how hard his body tried to get it out, the flavor lingered. The smell was trapped in his nose and made his stomach flip and twist even worse than it already had. He shut his eyes and tried to focus on anything else. There was the low drone of his computer running, the distant tick of the clock in the living room, and the padding steps of Daisuke moving in and out of the bedroom as he collected what he felt were the proper supplies in the event of illness. Ken’s eyes peeled up and saw the eclectic pile of items accumulating beside his bed. There were towels and wash clothes, a bucket of cool water and an empty bucket with a bag liner that he figured would be if he needed to vomit again, a box of tissues, a handful of candies, a ginger root, a bag of ice, a thermometer, two slices of bread, and an assortment of hair clips and ties. He rolled his eyes. He didn’t feel like making sense of everything that was there.  


Sleep came fast and hard. Daisuke hadn’t noticed when exactly Ken had fallen asleep but he was glad to see it. He body needed the rest. He frowned as he watched him sleeping, the way his cheeks were rosy with fever and a clammy sweat coated his skin in thick slimy sheen. Daisuke walked over to the bed, picked up a wash cloth and dipped it in the cool water bucket. He squeezed out the excess and carefully dabbed off the sweat. He then set the cloth aside and left the room as quietly as he’d entered. Daisuke carefully shut the door. The apartment was still and silent. For a moment he could understand how such an environment could drive someone mad, but that was a thought for later. He walked across the room and started sorting through the stacks of books and recipes he’d brought. There had to be at least one that would be soothing for such an infliction, caused by a terrible recipe or otherwise.  


Just as Daisuke began to collect a healthy amount of, what he deemed acceptable, options, a knock came to the door. His eyes shut hard and he grimaced. Caught up in what had happened, Daisuke had forgotten the reason he was trying out a new recipe in the first place. He shoved himself up from the floor and went to the front door. He pulled it open. There stood Takeru, Hikari, Miyako, and Iori. They greeted him and he welcomed them in just as he usual did. It was typical for Daisuke to be the one to answer the door. Ken tended to busy himself with other things and left the mundane, such as knocks at the door, for Daisuke to handle. One at a time, they filed in.  


It didn’t take long for them to notice something amiss. Miyako was the first to ask, “I know this sounds crazy, but where is Ken?”  


“He’s sick.” Daisuke said flatly, glancing back to the closed bedroom door.  


“Sick?” She was on her toes and headed straight for his room without another thought when she felt a hand grab her arm and hold her back.  


“How sick is sick?” Iori asked, giving Miyako’s arm a firm yank, dragging her a step back.  


“Well,” Daisuke started as though trying to think of a tactful way of saying it, “he puked until he fell asleep and has a pretty bad fever.”  


“Ew.” Miyako curled away. There were many types of sickness she could handle but the expulsion of stomach content was not one of them. She covered her mouth in a compulsive gag at the thought.  


“But he is sleeping now, right?” Hikari asked in a meek and worried tone.  


“Yeah, he’ll be alright. He just needs some rest.” Daisuke said confidently though in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but worry. In part, it was guilt. Surely he hadn’t poisoned his friend so severely by mistake.  


“What are those?” Takeru asked, noticing the handful of papers in Daisuke’s hand.  


“Oh, these?” He held up the pages, “I was going to try and make him something to feel better.”  


“I don’t know if cooking for him is really the best thing to do.” Takeru said, raising a hand to his chin, “It’d probably be better if we just took turns checking on him until he wakes up.”  


“So what do we do in the meantime?” Hikari turned to the boy with the straw blonde hair. The anxiety she felt was painted across her face. Though she didn’t want to say she was worried for him, she clearly was and couldn’t help but look the part too.  


“I guess we should keep working on the camping trip plans. We can fill him in once he’s feeling better.” Takeru suggested.  


“I can keep an eye on his fever while everyone else is working on the plans. My grandfather makes me take a health and safety certification course every year.” Iori volunteered.  


“It’s true,” Miyako vouched, “he’s a real stickler about things like that. He tried to convince me to take it too just in case anything happened while I was working on a computer or at the store.”  


“Alright, so I’ll just go make some soup...and some cookies.” Daisuke said as he turned towards the kitchen and walked away from his friends as they settled into the living room.  


“Wait. Daisuke, did you say cookies?” Miyako’s head shot up, suddenly realizing what he’d said.  


“Yeah.” He called back as he dug through the cabinets searching for all the materials he would need, “Cookies always help. Who doesn’t love cookies?”  


“Someone whose been throwing up, I’d imagine.” She replied.  


“It’ll be fine!” Daisuke said dismissively as he set out mixing bowls and cookie sheets. As the hour rolled by and then the next, the group of friends quietly discussed their plans, making little headway in decided the where and when with so many scheduling conflicts. Daisuke didn’t hold much vested interest in figuring out the little details. He already decided he’d make time for the camping trip regardless of what the others planned. After another hour ticked by, Daisuke had created a large amount of perfectly round cookies and assembled them neatly in a bowl. While he gave a great deal of them to the group in the living room, he kept a few on a plate and went to Ken’s room. He pushed the door open far enough to see in. Ken was sitting up, breathing slow and heavy and holding a cool wash cloth to his hair. The water, or maybe sweat, had dampened the long front strands causing them to clump and cling to the sides of his face. The redness in his cheeks has greatly subsided and he didn’t look nearly as washed out as before. Daisuke smiled and entered the room, happily presenting the plate of cookies. Ken didn’t react.  


He walked through the room, stepping over the assortment of things he’d brought and set the plate down on the edge of the bed, “I made some cookies. It’s not an old recipe. It’s just the regular cookies recipe so they won’t make you sick.”  


“Thanks, but I’d rather not have any.” Ken said softly.  


Daisuke reached down towards the floor and picked up a hair tie. He rolled it along his fingers and then reached out to his friend. Gently taking the cloth and dropping it into the bucket of water, he then ran his hand through Ken’s hair and pulled it back into a low loose hanging ponytail, “There. That should help.”  


“Thanks.” Ken said, though it hardly felt like it made a difference.  


“No problem.” Daisuke sat down next to him on the bed, carefully moving the plate of cookies farther down so they wouldn’t spill, “I’m sorry I made you sick, dude.”  


“It’s alright. I don’t think it was you.” Ken admitted.  


“Are you feeling any better?” He leaned over, his shoulder pressing against Ken’s and his eyes staring up at him like a sad puppy.  


“Enough to push you off my bed.” Ken’s eyes darted to his friend who had managed to cozy up next to him, nearly cuddling against him for the reassurance that he hadn’t done anything wrong other than making a horrible thing he had the audacity to try to pass off as food.  


“Do you really want to do that?” Daisuke shifted, resting comfortably against him and staring up at him with wide round eyes. He felt terrible for how the day was going and he was doing his best to make up for it but being the sort of person he was, he also knew that mental health was important and was taking the opportunity to try and cheer Ken up by teasing him.  


“Yes.” Ken grumbled and rolled his shoulder forward, effectively knocking Daisuke off. The young man recovered smoothly and lifted up a hand as though to affectionately stroke his face, clearly playful and well-meaning but poorly timed. Just as his hand came close to touching him, Ken’s hand cracked down on his wrist with slap, “Don’t touch me, Daisuke.”  


“Ow! Hey!” Daisuke whimpered.  


“Can you just let me rest?” Ken shot an exhausted glare. He hardly had the energy to do much more but it was enough get the message across. Daisuke sighed, feeling miserably rejected, and slumped back out the door. As the door clicked shut, the room filled with the steady still darkness that had occupied it moments before. The muffled murmurs of his friends sounded distant in his aching head. He’d hardly been awake but he felt just as exhausted as when he’d fallen asleep. Ken looked at the cookies. It was a kind gesture and he would have liked to eat one but he knew his stomach couldn’t yet handle such treats. He picked up the plate and set it on the floor. A moment later, he was under his covers and wrapped into a tight ball. He shivered feverously and fell asleep to the rhythmic shudders of his body.  


Night had settled in just as easily as sleep and day broke far too soon. Ken groaned and rubbed his eyes as the sunlight breached the curtains and assaulted his lids with its yellow rays. He rolled over and pushed his blankets off. They reeked of sick bitter sweat. There was no helping it. He sighed as he looked down at the mess on his floor and noted that he’d not bothered to even change his clothes. There was no helping that either. Ken stepped over the assorted collection of things, still not entirely sure what everything had been intended for, and swiftly left his room. Much to his surprise as he stepped into the hall, his friends were gathered around the family table quietly talking among themselves and eating breakfast. His mother glanced back from the kitchen with a smile and a wave of the spatula covered with egg bits. It had taken her a long while to grow accustom to a home full of people but it eventually came to be expected. At some point or another she would be feeding a horde of children, and then young adults.  


“Ken! How are you feeling?” Takeru called out to him with a friendly wave. Daisuke ducked his head and poked at his eggs.  


“Better, thanks.” He gave a nod and looked around the living room. It was a disaster, far worse than he’d tried to clean up the day before. Blankets and pillows were tossed around and papers and maps were piled carelessly into a stack in the center of the coffee table. It was a mess. He shuddered to think that it was in some fashion acceptable.  


“That’s good.” Takeru replied and quickly went straight to business, “We think we’ve narrowed it down to a couple good locations and there’s a handful of days that work for most of us. I wrote everything down last night so debriefing should be pretty easy.” He smiled and returned to eating his breakfast.  


“Hikari was saying there are a lot of really great camp sites. She used to go out there were Taichi and their family during the summers and sometimes on long weekends just for the views.” Miyako added.  


“The spring is the best time to go but the early summer is great too because that’s when the most flowers are fully bloomed.” Hikari added.  


“I’m sure anywhere out there will be fine.” Ken said passively as he made his way to the table still feeling drained from the day before. His stomach gurgled and rumbled uncomfortably empty but none of the food looked appetizing. Iori and Hikari started into a discussion about the various flora and fauna they might see and what was around during different parts of the year. Takeru and Miyako argued back and forth about the advents and disadvantages of the various sites. Takeru had it in his head that he could take advantage of the time and work on some writing projects while Miyako insisted that it was a trip meant for relaxation and that meant hiking and exploring, the exact opposite of what Takeru envisioned as relaxing. Meanwhile, Daisuke sat pathetically hunched over staring at his plate. He was quiet and hardly eating a thing. He pushed his food around the plate and poked at it a little as though he might eat it but ultimately did not. His sorry look made his face droop and sag, his eyes nearly watery.  


Ken sighed. He knew what it was about and he hated to see him pout in this way. He rolled his head to the side and stared off in thought. He didn’t particularly want to swallow his pride as it would inevitably invite the young man to again invade his personal space and give him affection the way a significant other might do in a time of illness. If anything, he did want that sort of attention just not from Daisuke and not when he’s trying to figure out if he’s going to puke again or not. Ken snorted and made up his mind on the matter. He turned and looked down the table at his sulking friend, “I’m sorry about yesterday, Daisuke.”  


With just those words, the other conversations turned silent. Daisuke slowly looked up from his plate. He didn’t know what to make of the abrupt apology. Normally, he was the one apologizing upon figuring out what exactly he’d done wrong in the first place. He looked back down at his plate. While it would be easy to simply accept it and move on, he wasn’t completely sure that was what he wanted to do. He’d only tried to make Ken feel better, only tried to be a good and compassionate friend, granted he had a way of taking it too far, but he’d not deserved to be put out the way he was with a hard shove and cold dry rejection. An apology was certainly called for but this wasn’t what he had in mind. It didn’t feel sincere but wanting more seemed unfair.  


“It’s alright, man.” He muttered, nearly under his breath.  


“I know you were just trying to help.” Ken said, carefully letting is words trail off before he mistakenly said something to negate his apology for having been so harsh the night before.  


“It’s cool, don’t worry about it.” Daisuke said, waving a hand but not bothering to look up at his friend. Instead he scooped up some food and shoved it in his mouth. Ken gave a slow nod. Daisuke swallowed hard. He couldn’t just take the apology, “You know, actually, you were a huge jerk.” He leaned his arm on the table, turning to shoot an accusing glare in his friend’s direction.  


“I know, that’s why I apologized.” Ken felt his eye twitch with irritation. Picking a fight wasn’t the best of ideas and he didn’t want to get into an argument first thing in the morning. There was plenty of time later in the day to disagree about things.  


“I get that but I don’t think you really understand what exactly you’re apologizing for. I was just trying to help and you couldn’t let your guard down enough to actually let me. You’re so self-absorbed and concerned about what someone might think of you that you can’t let anyone do anything nice for you. Ever since that one day at the festival, you’ve been a fucking—  


“Daisuke!” Ken’s mother spun around, his name coming out in a harsh warning.  


“Sorry.” Daisuke glanced over at her meekly and then his attention turned back to Ken with a fiery glare, “You’ve been an unreasonable jerk. It’s like you’re so afraid of risking how you feel that you compromise how everyone else feels. I might be your best friend, but you can’t treat me like I’m the lesser. Just accept things for how they are, move on, and stop being such a dick.” He turned back to his plate and hostilely shoveled food into his mouth.  


Everyone stared at Ken, waiting for a reaction. His jaw hung slightly slack as he processed through and tried to come up with a response but fell dramatically shy of coming up with anything. Daisuke was right in all that he said. He was taking his frustration out on his best friend and he’d been doing it for a while. He’d been pushing him away more and more and he pretended to not notice how it affected Daisuke. It was irresponsible to say the least. Ken breathed a sigh and stared down into his lap. There wasn’t much he could say but the silence was digging into him like a spade, “I’m sorry, Daisuke.”  


“It’s cool.” Daisuke said calmly and looked up from his plate again, “Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.”  


“Don’t worry about it. I probably needed to hear it, anyway.” Ken’s gaze turned up and he gave a weak smile. He didn’t look even remotely as sick as he had the night before. His eyes sparkled and his face was no longer clammy and pasty. His shoulders were rolled forward, one of his greatest tell when he was not only being sincere but was also somewhat embarrassed about it. Daisuke smiled back, giving a nod and then continued on with his food.  


“Wow, you guys are like an old married couple.” Takeru commented, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Daisuke grinned in agreement while Ken just rolled his eyes and slowly shook his head back and forth.  


“I can see it.” Miyako chimed in, “It’s a little weird but I can definitely see it.”  


“I could have gone my entire life without thinking about that.” Ken grumbled as his mother handed him a plate of breakfast food.  


“Honestly I don’t see it.” Iori said, “Maybe I’m just naïve, but I’ve always thought you two were constantly on the cusp of killing each other any time something went wrong.”  


“There’s a fine line between love and hate.” Miyako smiled, staring off as though suddenly swept up in a daydream. There were plenty of fine examples she could have used, both relevant and obscure, but her mind was already busy envisioning various different romantic plot lines. There were the classics such as pride and prejudice and then there were the soap operas she watched with her sister where the names stayed the same but the actors kept changing.  


“I think it’s a pretty bold line. I can understand miscommunication, frustration, and inevitable tension but I don’t see how someone can feel anger towards someone and then suddenly they’re in love.” Hikari shrugged. She never was a fan of the soap operas.  


“It’s not real hate.” Miyako argued back, “It’s all superficial. They don’t want to accept how they actually feel and then have to face their true feelings in a single dire moment.”  


“That just sounds completely unrealistic.” Hikari waved a hand at the nonsense.  


“People wouldn’t write about it if it never happened.” Miyako argued.  


“Sure they would if it made for a good story.” Takeru jumped into the conversation. He gave Hikari a smile and then proceeded to explain why fantastical stories are written from the historical point of view. He droned on about the creative process and what he felt made stories so compelling. Ken listened intently as his friends began to talk over each other, bantering about what stories were the best and why others were just terrible. Daisuke was on his feet in a moment, raising his voice and declaring that he knew the best of the best. Takeru was quick to follow suit and lean on the table and argue against his claims. Getting carried away was half the fun. Then Miyako leaned back in her chair, peeking around Takeru as he continued to bolster his opinion.  


“What do you think?” She said with a slight smile on her lips. Her brown eyes glittering under the incandescent lighting.  


Ken blinked, his heart racing and pounding against his chest like a bass drum, “About what?”  


“A fine line between love and hate.” She prompted.  


“Oh,” He glanced down, “I wouldn’t really know one way or the other but I don’t think you can ever truly love someone you hate any more than you can hate someone you truly love.”  


Miyako nodded and then turned back to the conversation across the table. Ken’s attention shifted back to his breakfast and he felt a warm blush creep along the edge of his ears. He wasn’t sure if anyone else could see it through the long hair and was sure if they could, they would immediately think he had regressed back into being feverishly ill. They weren’t likely to suspect anything else, to even think for a moment that he was slowly slipping into a fantasy of what it would be like for his feelings to be reciprocated. If he had to choose between walking the fine line, teetering between love and hate, or simply being engulfed in everything love had to offer, Ken was sure he’d always pick the latter.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 3: The Rumor Mills


	3. Chapter 3 The Rumor Mills: Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumors abound as the winds of change begin to blow. Ken hears rumors about himself, but he isn't the only one. How he takes it will turn the tides and set in motion something he could never have imagined.

Badlands   
Chapter 3  
The Rumor Mills (part 1: Whispers)

Spring had come and gone all too fast, giving way to the blaze of summer. Students would venture outside any chance they got just to enjoy the sun and heat. Each day that passed by inched closer to the summer festival. Unlike that of the spring, the summer brought more attractions and ended with a brilliant display of fireworks over the bay. In years before, they would go as a group and explore the tents and stall packed with novelties and games and the most delicious food around. Daisuke quietly scrolled through his phone, wholly preoccupied with the idea of asking someone to attend the festival with him. His hand floundered around as he reached for his drink. After a moment his fingers hooked around the handle. 

The Mills Cafe was the local hotspot. There was anything and everything young people wanted. There were private party rooms, an arcade, a bakery, and a cafe. Hikari had first introduced it to everyone and before long, it became the common place to meet. Daisuke was by far the most frequent patron of his friends. Of course, the sweets and entertainment were not the only things to attract him. His phone had become filled with picture of people he met and a handful he had managed to flirt with and not scare off. His tact was improving. Daisuke tool a drink and returned the cup to the table without looking up, “Are you going with anyone to the festival?”

Ken’s eyebrows furrowed from across the table, “Why?”

“I heard a rumor, that's all.” He said nonchalantly though both knew it was bait. 

Ken sighed, “What did you hear?”

“Oh,” Daisuke sat upright and leaned across the table. A wily smirk turned up his lips and his eyes gleamed with excitement, “just that you've become very popular with the ladies lately.”

“Oh.” Ken said, unamused. He picked up his cup and took a drink, his eyes watching Daisuke from over the edge. His phone vibrated on the corner of the table. Daisuke glanced to it and then to his friend as he coolly ignored whatever text had come in.

“So is that it?” Daisuke asked, confused by the lack of surprise.

“Was I supposed to say something else?” Ken’s eyebrow arched up. While he rarely faltered in any social situation, there was the occasional time where he would grossly misread. Daisuke’s mouth hung open, his top lip curling back. Ken rubbed his temple with his finger tips. While they were best friends, and Daisuke basically told him everything about his life whether he wanted to know or not, Ken remained more reserved. He managed to maintain separate groups of friends in Tamachi and Odaiba. In a way, he maintained two different lives. “It’s just a rumor, Daisuke.”

“Just a rumor that you're sleeping with every girl from here to Kyoto.” Daisuke sat back with his arms crossed. 

Ken looked up. That caught his attention. It was no secret that he got along well with just about everyone, especially girls who were constantly inviting him out. However, he certainly wasn't involved with any them in any way other than superficially. Sure, some of them would snap pictures and get a little friendlier than he would have cared for but at the end of the day it didn't mean anything to anyone. He shook his head, “That's just ridiculous.”

“I know, that's what I thought.” Daisuke said with a shrug, “If you were, when would you have time for me?”

“You're sick.” Ken grumbled, covering his face. It wasn't enough to have girls constantly flirting with him, but his best friend had to do it too. Daisuke chuckled and rocked back on the legs of the chair. He knew it bothered Ken. That was at least half the appeal. He grinned from ear to ear each time it brought his seemingly feminine friend to such a level of embarrassment and yet he, himself, felt not an ounce of shame. Ken turned his attention away as his phone began to buzz again. He picked it up and hesitated only a moment before quickly responding.

Daisuke eyed the device and then looked to Ken suspiciously, “One of your girlfriends?”

“No.” He replied.

“Boyfriends?” Daisuke lifted an eyebrow. Though he wouldn't outright admit it, he always wondered in the back of his mind if Ken would play for the other team in a manner of speaking. 

“Stop.” Ken said all at once annoyed. Daisuke rolled his eyes. 

“So it is a girl.”

“If I say yes, will you stop asking?” He glanced up from his phone momentarily to shoot an ice cold glare across the table.

“Probably not.” He admitted, hands tucked behind his head.

“Fine.” Ken said and set the phone down, “Yes, it's a girl. I am meeting up with her and some other friends later. She's not my girlfriend, she's just a friend.”

“Like Miyako.” Daisuke interrupted.

“Not like Miyako.” Ken corrected.

“Right, because you actually have feelings for her. This girl,” Daisuke waved his hand at the phone, “is just a hook up.”

“She's not a hook up.” The tension in his voice gave him away. Daisuke didn't miss it for a second. His face warped into a twist of boredom and disapproval, a rare combination.

“Make out session, whatever. Doesn't matter.” Daisuke leaned over the table again. His eyes locked on Ken and his tone turned low and heavy, “See this is how rumors start and you end up with a reputation, and not the kind you want. Its one of those you can’t shake and people judge you about. Even worse is that it has a ripple effect, dude. Before you know it, someone ends up getting hurt. If you think it's no big deal right now, think about how long it took me to find out and then think how long it will be before a little bird whispers in Miyako’s ear.”

A pang of guilt swam through his stomach. His breath choked in his throat like a rock going down. If Daisuke had heard rumors, it was likely Miyako had too. He looked away from his friend. Ever since the spring festival he had spent the better part of any free time he obtained in burying his feelings for Miyako by following the lead of any girl who wanted his attention. Not once had he considered the ramification. That was of little importance compared to his need to extinguish the burning want in his chest, the need for what he couldn’t have, a desire that couldn't be filled. Every girl that chased him was one more distraction. For the most part it proved to be something of an adventure and nothing short of a full stops learning experience. Then by the end of the day, though he tried to ignore it still, he couldn't help but lay awake staring at the ceiling and thinking of no one but her. Miyako always turned up in his mind if not also in conversation or in person. And the farther into his adventures with random girls he went, the more the fire burned beneath his skin for Miyako. Once an itch, had now become a blaze. It made him clench his jaw and swallow hard when he caught the scent of her skin as she passed by too closely. It made him shiver when her fingers made contact with his skin no matter how mundane or innocent the touch. He was fueling his own fire and wasting his time all at once with the girls he didn't care about. 

Plenty of them would have made for suitable girlfriends. They were pleasant and attractive but there was something missing. They just weren't Miyako and there was no two ways about it. Ken huffed and looked back up at Daisuke, determined to maintain some semblance of innocent intention, “Rumors are just colorful exaggerations. This isn't exactly the first time I've heard things about myself that weren't true.”

Daisuke looked cross, “Shit like this makes me wonder how you actually feel about Miyako. You could just take a chance and risk it and tell her how you feel, but instead you go playing around with paper dolls and matchsticks just asking for something to go wrong.”

Ken’s eyes narrowed. He wanted to argue, he wanted to tell him he was wrong, but he knew Daisuke was right. Even still, frustration boiled. “It’s not really any of your business, anyhow.”

With that, Ken stood up and dismissed himself from the table and grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and proceeded to collect his phone and check for his keys. Daisuke watched, cross armed. As of recent there was an uncomfortable friction between them. It was as if they were racing in opposite directions. Daisuke ran a hand through his hair as Ken finished putting himself together. “Dude, I know you think you waited too long but you haven’t. You should just tell her before it actually becomes too late and someone else asks her out.” He spoke with a soft sincerity.

“Sure,” Ken replied passively. “I’ll see you later, Daisuke.”

“Yeah, I’ll be seein’ ya.” He gave a weak wave as he watch his friend leave. The moment he was out the door, Daisuke’s phone vibrated. He looked down. A new text. “Headed to the Mills now, sorry I got held up again. It's crazy here! Miyako.” He groaned.

It was no surprise that she would be running late with the festival coming up and her family pressuring her to help at the store more often in preparation. Daisuke glanced out the window just in time to see the streams of long lavender hair float by as she hurried to the door. Miyako dodged and twisted and turned around people as she wove through the cramped cafe. Daisuke lifted a hand signalling his location. She gave a quick smile and managed to snake through to a seat. She fell into and dramatically huffed. Her fingers raked through her hair, dragging it back into place over her shoulders and down her back. The headband atop her head did little to keep her hair in place, but she had taken to wearing it since her usual headwear was considered too hat like and was banned from school. Miyako pushed up her red trim glasses at the bridge. They were the newest and latest to her growing collection and matched perfectly with the majority of her accessories and outfits. 

Daisuke looked her up and down. She was a lovely girl. Her skin was smooth and peachy, glowing like a flower in bloom. The ends of her hair curled in just the right way to peek around her skinny arms and frame her figure from shoulders to waist. Her face was cute, round and young bearing glimmering doe eyes. For a moment, as she gathered herself together, Daisuke could see why Ken had a crush on her. She was a heartbreaker just to look at. But then she opened her mouth, “Sorry to message you on the fly like that! Do you know if Hikari is coming? I know Takeru and Iori bailed today but I got the cliff notes from Iori about their plans for the Lantern Festival.” 

Daisuke sat quietly as she pulled out an actual paper note. It was just like her to do that, too. A smirk tugged at his lips. For so long he constantly teased and taunted her that he never before took a moment to actually look at her. She was more than just a little pretty, and though she was wildly annoying and got on his nerves, there was an ever present charm to all her quirkiness. Suddenly, he felt it. His heart skipped, breath caught in his throat. Daisuke swallowed hard. An uncomfortable alien feeling took him over and his head began to swirl. Miyako continued to ramble on, failing to notice the way Daisuke shifted as if nauseated. He felt jittery but not as though he was sick. No, Daisuke knew this feeling after he let it sink in. Perhaps it had always been lurking there just beneath the surface. She did always attract his attention. They were constantly knocking into each other, being honest and open and friendlier than average. Daisuke looked up from his thoughts.

“What do you think?” She paused. A minute passed without an answer, just a bewildered gaze. Miyako folded her arms. Rather irritated that he'd not been listening, “long story short: Takeru and Hikari are going to the festival together, Iori said he had plans with his family, I haven't heard from Ken, and I don't have plans at all so I guess maybe we can just go together and if Ken’s free, he can join us too.”

Daisuke blinked, “Yeah, sure. That sounds good.” He leaned against the table, seeming bored and swirled the last bit of tea around in his cup, “So, when you say go together to the festival...do you mean like a--

“No! What? No way, Daisuke! That would be weird.” She flapped a hand at him. It wasn't that it would be unappealing to her, per se. He had grown up a lot and was rather handsome these days. Nothing particular special but certainly better than average. However, he was a friend. A close friend. A close friend that was more of a brother than a romantic interest. 

“Would it?” He posed, still feigning indifference, “We already hang out together all the time. It's not like it would be a big deal or anything.”

Miyako’s eyebrows furrowed. This was unlike him. The way he was hunched and staring hopelessly at the table might as well have been a flashing neon sign that said he already endured so many rejections he was throwing a line her way. He was defeated and she couldn't help but feel sympathy for him. Afterall, she knew the plight of rejection all too well. She lowered her defenses and let out a long slow sigh, “Okay, Daisuke. It will be a date.” He looked up with a smile only to find her glaring over her glasses with a finger up, “One time and only one time. It's a strictly platonic friendly date.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He defended, “I just thought it would be better to call it a date then have to explain that we are just hanging out as friends because everyone else ditched up.”

“Well if Ken--

“He has plans.” Daisuke cut her off coldly. A bitter taste lingered in his mouth. While he desperately wanted to have a fit about his friend’s choices and just spill the beans about everything, he knew it wasn't his place. Not that she would take him all that seriously anyhow. “Besides,” He said, quickly redirecting the conversation, “when was the last time we just had fun together?”

She raised a suspicious eyebrow, “Never?”

“Exactly! So we have to do something about that.” He smiled excitedly at her.

Of all the people she ever imagined going on a date with, Daisuke had never been one of them. Miyako adjusted her glasses again, “You realize this isn't a real date, right?”

“Come on, Miyako. It's one night. You can at least pretend it is and just have fun.” Daisuke pleaded. He had a good point and she knew it. And whether she liked it or not, she wasn't completely opposed to the idea of going on a date with him. She had never had a successful date and having a good time with a friend on a friendly date would surely count as a much needed win. Besides, it wasn't as if they were at all romantically interested in each other. Daisuke was too distractible and would follow his latest interest until something new and shiny came along. Miyako was surprisingly too passive and wouldn't take the risk of heartbreak to actually engage with someone of interest. The very fact that she was so comfortable with Daisuke was a testament to her lack of interest in him as anything other than a friend. Truly, there was no harm in having a mock date. 

So, together they mapped out their plans, when they would meet, what they would wear, and Daisuke insisted that it was a date so he would be a gentleman and pay for everything. Miyako argued that she had more money and it was still not a real date so she should pay for some things. The hours seemed to sneak by as they laughed and planned out the entire pseudo date. Daisuke checked the time, “Oh, wow, I need to get home. It's my turn to make dinner.” He said as he quickly stood up, nearly knocking over the chair. He shoved his belongings into his pockets and turned away to leave. For just a moment, he paused in step and turned back to Miyako with a grin, “I guess I’ll see you later so we can finish plan our date.”

“Fake date.” Miyako corrected, “I’ll call you later tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Daisuke said. He gave a little wave and then disappeared through the crowd and out the door. 

Miyako sat back with a smile. Her attention turned to the window. Street lights were flickering on. Time certainly had flown by. She checked her phone. No new messages. Carefully scrolling she opened an unsent saved message and read it over a few times. It was bold and risky, it was an invitation to Ken to join just her for the festival. She bit her bottom lip. It wasn't as though she still had feelings for him. She just couldn’t stand the chance of discovering that it was all a lie she was telling herself instead of owning up to the heartache that her feelings simply weren't mutual. Maybe it was time to move on. Maybe a date with Daisuke would be just the thing to help her move forward. She shivered at the thought. Her younger self would be so shocked and appalled. Miyako bit the tip of her thumb. She couldn’t send such a text now that she made plans with Daisuke. And Daisuke said Ken had plans of his own. She should have sent it sooner. Or perhaps it was better that she never was able to send it in the first place. She quickly backspaced over the letters until nothing was left. Closing the texts, she put the phone back into her pocket. 

Growing up turned out to be nothing like what she once fantasized it to be like as a child. She wasn't swarmed with suitors, constantly swimming in good times with friends, or even being the queen of her own domain. It was more floundering through confusing social situations, navigating expectations, and blundering through her day to day struggle to be confident yet sensible. Her family reassured her time and again that she was just going through an awkward phase but the longer it dragged on, the less it felt like a phase and the more it seemed like a plateau. Miyako rested her chin in her hand as she gazed at her own reflection in the window. She was tall and lanky and her glasses were sliding down her nose again. A date was Daisuke was about the best she could hope for given her current state. She sighed. No one seemed interested in a girl who looked like a beanpole. Glancing around the cafe, she then looked down at her chest. At least she wasn't completely a beanpole.

“I heard he goes out with anyone.” A girl said from somewhere behind Miyako.

“You should totally ask him to come out with us!” another girl said excitedly, “Can't you just imagine hanging out with Ken Ichijouji?”

“Hanging out?” yet another said. Her tone skeptical and low, “From what I heard, it's a little more than just hanging out.”

“You're a pervert!” The girl squealed back before breaking into a wild giggle.

“It’s true, I heard that too.” said the first girl proudly. She was clearly the leader of this group and from the way she spoke, she had her own agenda in mind.

Miyako started to turn her head, her eyebrows furrowed as she eavesdropped. This was the first she heard of such accusations. While she knew well enough that she was often the last to notice things, all too frequently zeroed in on her own preoccupations to take note of anything around her, this seemed like something that she would have noticed before by chance overhearing it. The girls continued on squawking and squealing over the juicy, intimate details of what they heard and who from. Miyako’s leg jittered. Surely they were mistaken and they didn't mean the Ken Ichijouji that she knew. Then again, he had been skipping out more than usual lately when their group of friends made plans. Miyako nervously nibbled her nails. 

It didn't make sense. They were friends, it seemed logical that at some point he would at least mention having a girlfriend. As the conversation went on, it became clear to Miyako that a girlfriend wasn't exactly what they were describing. Her breathing grew heavy. She felt anger bubbling in her chest. Her eyes stung. This was all wrong. He wasn't supposed to be like this, playing dirty little games with dumb little girls. Miyako grabbed her belongings and hurried out of the cafe, far from the girls and into the muggy summer night air. She walked hastily down the street, the conversation echoing in her ears and the words they said and claims they made beat like drums inside her head.

As she turned a corner, she stopped. She leaned against the building wall and huffed. She felt breathless as though she had been punched in the gut. Her arms folded across her middle and she fell down along the wall. Her knees knocked together in front of her face. Miyako squeezed her eyes shut. Every muscle ached and she felt sick. It was all wrong. She clenched her teeth and her fists. Her nails dug into her arms, “What is wrong with me?” she whispered to herself as hot tears spilled out through her lashes and dribbled down her cheeks. Her lower lip trembled and she sniffed, “why am I even crying?” she wiped her face with her arm.

She knew the answer. It wasn't something she wanted to admit or even entertain the idea of but it didn't change the truth. She knew why the things the girls said bothered her so much. Miyako took a few forced deep breathes and then stood up. She looked up at the night sky, dark and distant, “Come on, Miyako, they're just stupid rumors. They're probably not even true.” She said trying to convince herself to not believe the words of girls she knew nothing about.

Even still, the ache that tore at her heart was hardly eased. Miyako’s hands trembled as she reached into her pocket. She pulled out her phone and opened a new text. Her thumbs moved fast, “Hey, Daisuke. I have a question about something I heard that you might know more about.”

It wasn't long for a response, “What did you hear?” Daisuke had stopped cooking. He stared anxiously at his phone.

Miyako hesitated. He would know. They were best friends. She just needed to ask. She just needed to know. But she hesitated. “I heard someone say the fireworks would be on the south end of the bay this year. Did you hear that?” She shut her eyes and hit send. It was a lie, just like everything else. It was avoidance of what she really wanted to know, to say. 

Daisuke read the message and groaned. He called back to Jun, “Hey, do you know if the…” his words trailed off as a thought came to mind. He knew Miyako. She could deny anything if given the chance. Even her own feelings. Daisuke stared at his phone a moment longer. This wasn't the question she wanted to ask. She was fishing for something. His stomach sank. It seemed impossible, but then again the rumors had been floating around for some time. He replied, “Where did you hear that?”

“I heard some girls at the Mills Cafe talking…” Miyako hesitated again. She bit her thumb impulsively. The last thing she wanted to do was give herself away as being concerned about the reputation of her former crush. It might even suggest that she still had--she shook her head go clear her thoughts. 

“Some girls?” Daisuke said to himself. He rubbed a hand over his face. He turned to his older sister as she busily stirred a pot, “Hey Jun, crazy question: If you heard a rumor about your crush, what would you do?”

“What kind of rumor? One like about Yamato’s band break up again or like one of gross ones about your friend Ken.” Jun straightened up and turned around, “Is he single? I know he's kind of young for me but he's gotten really cute.”

“He wouldn't date you if his life depended on it, Jun.” Daisuke grumbled, “And to answer your question, I mean more like those rumor and less like ones about Yamato’s band.”

She put a finger on her chin in thought for a moment, “I guess I would start by asking around with his closest friends. They know him the best.” Jun eyed her brother, “Wait, you're not all jealous of the rumors about Ken, are you?”

Daisuke jumped back, his face lit up bright red and he held his hands up defensively, “What? Jealous? Me? No! No way, Jun, that's crazy.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, putting a hand on her hip, “You two would be super cute together. Does he even swing that way?”

“No.” Daisuke groaned, “And stop trying to set me up with all of my friends.”

“Not my fault you're so unlikable.” She shrugged.

“Shut up, Jun!” Daisuke said as he stormed out of the room. She had a way of getting under his skin like no one else. Daisuke slammed the door as he went into his room and flopped onto his bed. He stared at the text. It could be an innocent question. She might be telling the truth. Or it was her passive way of asking something else--asking about the rumors. He didn't have to search deep to find that he knew the answer. He also didn't have to think too hard to know he was going to regret what he was about to do. Daisuke frowned and sent a message back.

“A rumor is an elaborate exaggeration of the truth. I don't know what you heard, but there is some truth. We can talk later if you want.” She read aloud. Miyako slid her phone back into her pocket. He saw right through her like he always did. Daisuke was dangerous. It wouldn't take him long to uncover the truth. And he wasn't one to keep quiet and let her go on pretending she didn't feel that way. She was playing with fire. And their fake date was going to challenge her ability to hide her feelings from Daisuke and herself. Miyako looked up as the familiar sounds of the girls from the cafe echoed against the buildings.

“He has a type, you know.” The squeaky girl said, dancing around the other two energetically, “Long hair, long legs, cute face. For a play boy, he sure is picky.”

“You're definitely not on his list.” The low voiced girl chuckled. The squeaker one glowered. Her short pigtails bobbed as she put her hands on her hips and made an ugly face at her friend. The lower voiced girl reached out and patted her head. The girl was very petite and it made her look very young though the figure she had suggested otherwise.

“And I'm the perfect match for at least something.” bragged the leader. Miyako watched her strut down the street. She was voluptuous, her hair was in beautiful wide curls that fell over her shoulders. Laying flat, Miyako could imagine it was much longer. The girl’s shorts hugged her hips and showed of the length of her legs, accentuated by her wedge heels. All in all, she was a pretty girl but it was superficial. It wasn't real, just a mask for something else.

Miyako frowned to herself. Try as she may to deny it, she couldn’t run from the truth forever. She had never truly given up on Ken. All that she did was stuff the feelings as far down as she could and hid them away. They were never really gone. And now, as she walked slowly home, it was as though the box was opened and all her feelings were flowing back. It hurt and ached and burned. Being desperately in love with a boy who did not feel the same way was painful and she couldn't stop it. Perhaps the only thing she could do was confront it. Accept her feelings, and with a little luck move on. Besides, she had a date coming up to think about. Miyako forced a smile. A date with someone who wasn't going to try to impress her. No pressure.

 

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 4: THE RUMOR MILLS (PART 2: CONFESSIONS)


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